


The Skull

by Powblue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powblue/pseuds/Powblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the skull Sherlock keeps on the mantelpiece in 221B and how Sherlock made his first friend.<br/>It is also on DeviantArt but its better here, I changed it for here so...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Skull

Sherlock was angry. He was very angry. Anderson had finally done it. He had said that fatal sentence that sent Sherlock into a fuming rage.

“You’re a freak and no one will ever love you”

John was watching him from the kitchen. He could see him pacing the living room, red faced and fist clenched. After a few minutes Sherlock marched over to the couch stuck his hand down the back and pulled out John’s gun, before randomly shooting the living room. But not just his usual wall he shot everything and anything. Sooner rather than later he ran out of bullets, this made him pause and look around at the mess he’d made. But he saw something that made his heart stop. He saw he’d shot something. Something he’d never forgive himself for. On the floor by the fireplace, was the skull. Sherlock dropped the now empty gun and raced over to it, picked it up and hugged it to his chest. Never before had Sherlock been so scared. If he had lost the skull.

John got up from the floor under the table where he had been hiding and walked over to Sherlock. He placed a hand on his back and said quietly “Sherlock, tell me what’s wrong.”

Sherlock looked up at John with a tear stained face and replied “I almost broke her…”

Other than being completely confused about who “she/her” was he didn’t know what to do. He had never seen Sherlock cry, or show any emotion at all before. “Tell me who she is...”

“It’s a long story”

“We have all the time in the world”

“Okay.. if you really want to know”  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
20 years ago

A young boy was on his own. He was sitting in the park, on a swing reading a book about bees. He had lots of dark curly hair and big blue eyes and he was so thin he looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. 8 year old Sherlock Holmes wasn’t your average child. He was smart, but he didn’t have any friends. The other children would pick on him and call him names, they would push him over in the street then run away. One time Sherlock broke an arm in one of those “accidents” but no one bullied him more than James Moriarty. Moriarty was a boy a few years older than Sherlock, who lived in the same street as him. He had dark hair too but his was always slicked back.   
But of course she knew all this. She had been watching, waiting for the right time to catch them and stop them once and for all. She got up from the bench she had been sitting at and walked over to the swing set Sherlock was on. She didn’t talk to him; actually she sat a few swings away from him. She waited and watched as Moriarty and his “friends” got up and surrounded Sherlock. For some reason, Sherlock never fought back, it was something she never could get her head around. He just sat there and took the abuse. But this time it was going to be different. She was going to stop them.

“Hey freak. What you reading” the first sentence was spoken but Sebastian Morgan, Moriarty's best friend.

“The same thing I’ve been reading for the past few weeks.” Sherlock replied calmly, he was awfully well spoken for an 8 year old she thought to herself, “Thanks to someone I’ve never had the time to finish it.” Why sarcasm? She could never understand why Sherlock was always provoking them when they attacked him, but it was one of the things she found fascinating about him. She waited a few more minutes, for it to get worse before she got us and stood behind Sherlock on the swing.

“There a problem here?” she asked standing behind Sherlock with both hands on the chains on his swing.

“No, not a problem. Just having a nice chat to our friend Sher here” came the answer from Moriarty.

“It was a rhetorical question sweet-pea. I know there’s a problem here. I’ve been watching you bully my friend here for some time.”

“You’re not his friend? Sherlock doesn’t have friends. He told us so himself, when we asked him to be our friend and he rejected us.”

“No honey-bun, you asked him to be part of a group of bullies and he said no. That whole ‘I don’t have friends’ thing was probably just an excuse so he didn’t have to be part of your group. And you’re wee plan to stop him having friends or having anyone love him failed. I’m his friend, and I love him.” The boys looked taken back, but Sherlock who had turned around in his swing to face her was smiling. Never before had someone come to defend him. And no one had ever called him a friend.

“We.. uh.. no pfft, where’d you get that idea…”

“Yep well, I’m going to give you two options, one either you stop bullying my friend here and leave him alone; which I think is the preferred option, or two you all find out first-hand about my severe anger issues.” She smiled holding up her hand so they could see the damage only caused by punching something/someone pretty hard “You’re choice boys.”

The lot of them stared at her, including Sherlock, she had called him a friend again… he liked the thought of having a friend. Everyone except Moriarty were too scared, they looked at Moriarty for a split second in way of an apology before rushing off home, or at least far away from the scary girl with the bruised knuckles.

Moriarty looked at her, she was around the same age as him, so 12 or so then, and she had straight long brown hair and light blue eyes. She was tough, he could tell from here that she’d recently been in a fight and come out on top. He wasn’t scared of her but he knew we wouldn’t be able to take her down on his own. And if she was going to be protecting his favourite pet, he would have to take her down.

“You won’t always be there to protect him. One day you’ll be gone, and I’ll be there. Waiting.”

“Over my dead body darlin’.”

“That is one possible outcome.” He retorted before turning away and walking home. Sherlock was still sitting on his swing, gobsmacked. “uhhh…”

“Alright, Bab??” She smiled at him and walked round and took the swing beside him and looked down at her feet “I’m sorry that I haven’t stepped in before…”

“It’s okay, you stepped in just now and that’s what really matters…” Sherlock smiled at her, she had called him a friend before she had even talked to him, what if she didn’t like him after talking to him.

“You’re a smart kid, why did you have to answer back when you knew what is going to happen?”

Sherlock’s smile widened “When you’re voice is the only weapon you have. Use it” She smiled at him he smiled back. “I think it’s a bit unfair that you know my name but I don’t know yours?” he asked still smiling.

She laughed, “My name is Mina”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in 2013

“Mina was my best friend, my only friend.” Sherlock looked sadly down at the skull he had in his hand, he and John were still sitting on the floor. “She was murdered 8 years later, she was only 20… I was 16. Her last wish was that I got a bit of her. So I knew I’d never be alone again.”  
John looked like he was going to cry, Sherlock wiped a tear from his face.  
“Of course this isn’t her real skull, that would be disgusting… it’s like a mould” Sherlock handed the skull to John.

“Sherlock, do you know there’s an engraving?”

“What?”

“Yes, just here, it says-” John never finished because Sherlock snatched it back and read out,

“When the only weapon you have is your voice. Use it.”

Then the waterworks started again, Sherlock crumpled into a ball on their living room floor. It was at that point Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan walked in on the scene.  
Lestrade took one look at the crying ball on the floor called Sherlock and he looked at John. John looked back with a tear stained face blinked once before looking back down at Sherlock, who was clutching her skull whispering “I’m sorry… so… so.. sorry Mina… sorry”

John stood and faced Anderson. “Out.”

“Excuse me?” he seemed taken aback by this.

“I said out meaning Get. Out.”

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

“WANT A BET. GET OUT OF MY LIVING ROOM. MY FLAT. AND MY STREET OR I SWEAR TO GOD. I WILL MAKE YOU SORRY!”

Anderson ran. She ran down the stairs and out the door. Donovan debated whether to follow to make sure he was okay but she decided against it, she may not have liked Sherlock but Anderson had gone too far,  
Sherlock looked up at John’s sudden outburst. He got up. Walked over to John and hugged him.  
John hugged him back, but over his shoulder nodded to Lestrade and Donovan to leave but Donovan stepped closer to Sherlock and from behind,

“Sherlock, text me if you need me yeah, Bab?” She whispered into his ear. The she headed down the stairs after Lestrade

…

Sally and Lestrade walked calmly out the door, and got into his car. He was about to drive away when he turned in his seat to Anderson who was sitting in the back and said “Never call Sherlock a freak, or tell him no one will ever love him again. Because Sherlock has feelings. Sherlock. Can. Love.”


End file.
